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“Return flights, hotel accommodation, match tickets and spending allowance for two persons?”, he said. “Have you any idea how much that would cost me if I won that, and who’d look after the farm?”, he said.
He was looking at the prizes in the IRFU Annual Club Draw. It’s an opportunity for clubs to make a few bob. The IRFU put up the prizes worth about twenty grand and each club is given a thousand tickets to sell at €10 a pop. The clubs keep the money.
No Bother.
Until you come up against the like of Seánín.
“ Do think the IRFU’s idea of a spending allowance can match my wife’s manic desire to spend when she’s in sniffing distance of Oxford Street?” he exclaimed. “I’d be NAMA’d by the end of the first weekend”.
The diminutive prop forward trying his best to get rid of the ten tickets he’d been ordered to sell by the club chairman under pain of death was getting desperate.
With the other prizes offering similar trips for two to Rome, Edinburgh, and Cardiff giving more chances for the wife of Seánín to indulge in her addiction to retail therapy, this was going to be a hard sell.
“ But what about the bullock?”, said the wee prop in last desperate attempt to prise a tenner from the wad of notes in Seánín's back pocket.
Seánín's ears pricked up.
“And what bullock would this be”, he said.
“Well James up in Curran’s bar is putting up a bullock to be won by a holder of a ticket sold locally. There’ll be a bit of a hooley in Curran’s Bar on the night of the draw and somebody will be going home with next years supply of beef”, the prop said sensing that this blind side move just might come off.
Seánín slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulled out the wad of notes, and peeled of a fifty.
“Gimme five of them things”, he said.
With the daylight fading, our small, and not quite perfectly formed, prop headed down the bohoreen in search of another customer.
“I wonder if I should have told him that a donkey and a sack of spuds are the second and third prizes?”, he thought.
An Ticéid
'Turas le foireann Rugbaí na hÉireann go Sasain i 2015', a deir sé. 'Eitiltí filte, óstán, ticéid don chluiche agus airgead póca do bheirt?' Nach bhfuil aon tuairim agat cé mhéid a chuirfeadh sé sin siar mé, gan trácht ar dhuine a dhíol as aire a thabhairt don fheirm agus mé as baile!' a deir sé. Ag féachaint ar na duaiseanna i dtarrac an IRFU a bhí sé. Deis iontach don club cúpla scilling a bhailiú. Tá luach €20,000 in iomláin ar na duaiseanna atá á gcur ar fáil ag an IRFU agus 1000 ticéad ag an club le díol ar €10 an ceann. Tá géar gá leis na pinginí. Go hiontach!
Go dtí go gcasfá ar leithéidí Shéanín.
'Níl aon dul fé'n spéir go mbeidh dothain airgead póca ag an IRFU do mo bhean'sa agus í in aon ghiorracht do Shráid Oxford! Bheinn faoi ghlas ag NAMA sula mbeadh an deireadh seachtaine thart!' Bhí an lán taca tosaigh a bhí ar órdú ó Chathaoirleach an Chluib gach aon ceann dos na diail ticéid a dhíol, ag cailiúint a mhisnigh. Thuig sé narbh aon mhaith inseacht do Sheánín faoi na duaiseanna de thurasanna go dtí'n Róimh, ná Edinburgh ná Cardiff fiú, bheadh dúil a mhnaoi sa siopaóireacht chomh h-olc céanna sna cathracha sin.
Chuimhnigh fear na dticéad ar phlean agus aon iarracht amháin eile aige €10 a bhaint ó phócaí an fheirmeora. 'Ní dócha go mbeadh aon suim agat sa bhollán ach oiread?'. 'Bollán?' arsa Seánín, 'Lean ort.' 'Bhuel, tá James Curran ar an príomh sráid chun bollán a thabhairt mar phríomh dhuais do dhuine éigin a cheanaíonn ticéad go háitiúil. Beidh oíche againn don tarrac i dTí Churran, agus beidh soláthar breá feola ar feadh na bliana ag duine éiginn ag dul abhaile dóibh an oíche sin.' 'Giúntias Dé', arsa Seánín agus a lámh ina phóca aige. Thóg sé amach lán dorn nótaí. 'Caith chugam luach leath-chéad'. Bhí fear an rugbaí breá sásta, agus bhailigh sé leis síos an bótharín dó fhéin, agus é ag cuimhniú an mó ceann eile a bheadh díolta aige dá mbeadh ráite aige le Seánín go raibh asal, agus pacaí prátaí mar dhuaiseanna breise chomh maith!
